Imbued
by zenn
Summary: AU, extremely OOC. Draco sees Hermione at a bookstore and is instantly allured.


**Imbued**

_"Have you ever been in love, been in love so bad_

_You'd do anything to make them understand_

_Have you ever had someone steal your heart away_

_You'd give anything to make them feel the same_

_Have you ever searched for words to get you in a heart_

_But you don't know what to say_

_And you don't know where to start"_

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****

I was there that day. In dark blue shorts and an oversized pullover. Feet shoved into a pair of white and tan flipflops. Then he came, and tugged at my earphone, pulling it out.

"Hi, do I know you?" An easy smile met my indignant expression. I glared.

"Apparently not." His smile never wavered. He poked the earphone back into my ear, and walked away.

Funny how I could sense his presence, that no matter where I was, he was at least seven feet behind. That as I wandered in the maze of bookshelves, he followed from afar. It was a race, a chase. I went to the store next door. The pink choker hung from the jewellery rack. My mind was clear, yet clouded. I reached out to touch one of the pink shell fragments, then retracted my hand, and returned to the bookstore.

The same spot.

I could see the ghost of a girl standing there, staring, yet not seeing, at the cover of a book. Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar. The ghost of a voice, "…do I know you?"

I took the book down. She stared back at me from the cover, eyes laughing. Smiling… smiling.

Something glittered before my eyes and a wisp of cold touched my neck. Silver circles and coral hues.

I turned, surprised yet expectant. He smiled, again.

"I thought you'd like it. Pink suits you."

"You followed me?"

A shrug. My eyes narrowed.

"Thanks, but I don't accept sudden gifts from people whom I've had absolutely no intimate connection with whatsoever. Much less a stranger." Much less you, I thought somewhat wryly.

He feigned disappointment. "I sure did feel that 'intimate connection'."

The second glare of the day. Unceremoniously, I whacked the side of his head with The Bell Jar.

"No, you insufferable ninny."

"But we do know about each other," he protested. I arched an eyebrow, sceptical.

He gestured. "You like Plath, and pink."

I put the book down on an adjacent shelf and fished out my wallet. "Yes, and you're a psychopath. Here. Twenty four dollars. Thanks for the thought, though."

I flashed a brief smile, turned. 

And left.

Then I realised I'd forgotten my book.

I went back there. He was gone.

I took the book, and felt a very slight bump under the cover.

Twenty four dollars and a hastily scribbled note. His personal details

"Hello," it said in addition. "I like that song too. I liked her performance in Cinderella, the musical. You ever watched it? Would you like to?"

He must have heard the soft strains of the music when he plucked out my earphone earlier, I mused, smiling subconsciously.

So I went home, and went online. To view his diary on the internet. And it said:

"I met this girl today. I don't know what drew me to her in the first place. 

Maybe it was her hair, fastened in a messy bun, shining brown and black under the light. 

Maybe it was the way she looked so at ease, so enraptured with whatever she was holding.

Whatever it was, I stared at her for the longest time, and felt for a second that lasted a year, that she was the girl I wanted to spend my life with.

Somehow my feet propelled themselves, and my mouth functioned before anything registered in my mind. She glared at me, and I thought she looked absolutely lovely. I won't forget her. And if you are reading this, I hope you are, please do contact me. I want to tell you I'm not normally a psychopath, only just that once. I met you, and I lost myself. I want to talk to you."

I kept that incident tucked and folded in a corner of my mind for a month. I was about to start my term at college. There were so many things to do, so much to prepare for.

The new term was so uncertain, yet bright. I stood surveying the campus, awed and subdued. The wind whispered, melancholic whispers that stirred my heart. There was a light pressure at my elbow, and then a murmur.

"I knew you liked pink." 

My hand instinctively reached up to touch the pink hair tie on my hair. I turned, but there was no one. Something called out to me, I could not discern what. I logged on again and typed in an address that was so familiarly foreign. There was another new post.

"_Have you ever loved somebody so much it makes you cry_

_Have you ever_ _needed something so bad you can't sleep at night_

_Have you ever tried to find the words but they don't come out right_

_Have you ever, have you ever_

I saw her again today.

Hello, angel.

Hello, my Juliet."

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End file.
